Of Monarok's Trials
by Blood Amps
Summary: Monarok of the Mandiocs, a small mercenary guild of highly trained fighters, has been hired by Vhailor to accompany him on his journey to Baldur's Gate under circumstances more sinister than any could have predicted. Please R&R.
1. Hired!

Baldur's Gate: Of Monarok's Trials  
by Blood Amps  
  
Chapter One - Hired!  
  
In the Slums district of Athkatla operated a band of mercenaries known as the Mandiocs. Known for there fine training of the ways of the sword, these mercenaries are highly sought after by private idealist or other sects and cults. Among these mercenaries one may find a member with backgrounds such as thievery and murder as well as the banishment from Baldur's Gate or Waterdeep. Basically, the Mandiocs are a group of cutthroats and bandits for hire. They are also recognized for their fierce ambition and the unnecessary collateral damage they cause.  
  
One such member within the Mandiocs is a resilient young man who goes by the name of Monarok (this name was chosen by his guild and now remains with him. The origins of his real title are unknown to this date). Trained by the best of the Mandiocs and befriended by the deadliest, Monarok has made his way through the ranks with flying colors. Though there are only three ranks within the Mandiocs, and Monarok being the second, he is considered a high authority due to his good business.  
  
Monarok is well-witted, strong, and ambidextrous with a broad, one-handed sword which he always has with him. These skills, though few, are best known and sot after by many a high bidder. Often working for the Shadow Thieves, Monarok has picked up bits of the thieving practice here and there. Stealth, lock-picking, and trap-finding are his most accomplished skills, though little accomplished they are.  
  
Monarok lives by the blade of his sword, and long shall he live if he so remains to it. His conception of reality and of the gods are passive and he does as he pleases to suit his needs. Though he has good morals and high standards, Monarok will change for a brief time if the money is right. Like they say, no job too small...  
  
Monarok's latest business is the escort of some mage of repute. A man named Vhailor had met with top agents in the Mandiocs for a dangerous escort to Baldur's Gate. And, as I've said earlier, the Mandiocs are known for there banishment from Baldur's Gate. Though there are exceptions, and their best being Monarok. And so it fell upon him to take on the job of Vhailor. The man had paid well just to meet with the Mandiocs and had promised more to come. Though trust is hard to get in Athkatla, bribery often subsides this.  
  
'On the 'morrow we shall leave, fair warrior. Rest well for our journey be a long hike.' said the old man, Vhailor.  
  
And with that the man had left to his rooms upstairs in the Five Flagons Inn. Homeless, Monarok had also rented a room for the night. He bought a small room though.  
  
Within his room, Monarok sat upon his bed in noting but his brown, cloth-woven shirt and pants; loose-fitting for comfort when he strapped on his armor. The night drifted on while Monarok sat deep in meditation. Thoughts swept through the hideously scarred mind of Monarok. Emotions and past events spoke of horrible things that had flayed the life from Monarok. But one thing stood true in his mind. Time moves on and destroys all: kingdoms, life, and eventually memories.  
  
Monarok fell asleep soon after...  
  
Sunrise swept threw the window of Monarok's quarters, awakening him from his disturbing slumber. Hair matted, skin ithcy and cold, eyes swollen with sleep that still hung from his lids; Monarok was dead tired, but that didn't stop him. Money is his only concern and to get it meant to wake up. He pulled on his thin leather armor and pulled a black overcoat over it. It made him a bit bulkier, but other than that it wasn't noticeable at all.  
  
A knock came to his door, and he grabbed his black hilt sword. 'Name your business!' he said aloud. 'Come, my employed friend, we embark if you are indeed ready.'  
  
Monarok opened the door. He saw that Vhailor had stuck out his hand in common gesture. Monarok took his hand and shook, returning the courtesy. 'Wouldn't we need some provisions? I'm sure it's a long way to either Beregost or Nashkel.'  
  
'Unnecessary,' replied Vhailor, 'Food is all about the wilderness... you just have to know where to look. Come, I'll worry about the food and fear not for I shall provide you with plenty if it need be so.'  
  
Though his trust yet be gained by Vhailor, Monarok took his words. He couldn't argue. He wasn't hired to eat... just to escort. 'I see your dressed casually. That is good for I wish to avoid any attention that may be brought upon us.'  
  
'Is there something I should know?' asked Monarok, curious as to this mage's intent. There were a lot of vicious people in the wild, but none came close to the mages of civilization. 'There... is nothing, Monarok. Hold your tongue on these matters for you'll not be needing to known them. Mark that I intend no offense... I just need this to be a... quiet matter.'  
  
'Aye,' replied Monarok. And they left Athkatla.  
  
End of Chapter One. More to come soon, so check back later. Also, please review this article. I appreciate your interest. DISCLAIMER: I own no rights to the Forgotten Realm thingy! 


	2. Of Vhailor And His SelfCourting

Baldur's Gate: Of Monarok's Trials  
by Blood Amps  
  
Chapter Two - Of Vhailor and His Mysterious Self-Courting  
  
In the broad light of day, Monarok took his first steps out of Athkatla for the first time in a long while. He had been to Baldur's Gate before and many of the towns along the way. He especially loved the Friendly Arm Inn. He had made quite a friendship with Bentley Mirrorshade, the owner of the estate. But that was many years ago, before Monarok was even a Mandioc. Before Monarok was even Monarok.  
  
'Tread carefully, good sir, for this land has many tricks upon it.' called Vhailor who was only a pace or two ahead of him. Monarok didn't answer but took note of the mage's wisdom. Most people died that way, falling from injury and lying helpless in the middle of nowhere so that little kobolds and Knolls could feast upon them without difficulty.  
  
The land felt warm and the sculpture of it lay laden with many rounded hills. Monarok had forgotten what the wilderness had felt like. And even with these few paces from Athkatla, he was glad enough to be on this Journey.  
  
'We make our way to Nashkel, if fortune be with us, and good fortune one may hope!'  
  
For days they had traveled, stopping briefly during sunrise to rest and eat. Vhailor mysteriously leaves the camp on occasions and comes back with fruits and nuts and sometimes even meats such as fish and deer. Magic wasn't respected in Amn, but Monarok was thankful for it as he bit into the juicey meat of a deer leg that had been cooked by the hellish flames called upon by the wizard.  
  
After the sun had moved a hand above the horizon (Vhailor would hold out his hand as far as his arm and measure the distance between the rising sun and the ground) Monarok and Vhailor would pack up the tents and begin to march on to their destination.  
  
While on the Journey that lasted six days, Vhailor would spend much time in a meditative state where he would often talk to himself at times. He would record the progress of their quest, maybe to comfort himself. Monarok became very concerned, but he was employed with good money, so he kept his mouth shut and tried not to bring up anything about Vhailor's strange dreaming.  
  
One night, however, Monarok awoke from his rest at the hearing of awful, grumbling noise. He thought it to be a bear. Venturing out from his tent, he noticed that no animals were present. The fire had shrunk into a dark pile of molted ash and dirt. The grumbling noise came from Vhailor's tent. Monarok went to investigate.  
  
He called out, 'Vhailor! Answer!' but no answer came. He unsheathed his sword and held it ready in his left hand. Carefully and cautiously he opened the tent flap to find Vhailor hunched over with his back turned to him.  
  
'Turrrr... gurrrr...' the rumblings went on and suddenly turn to speech from a voice that was not of Vhailor's own. 'They go as plan, stay with it...' The voice trailed off and gurgled one last time before they shrug away. Vhailor lifted his head and turned around to see Monarok in shock expression.  
  
'My dear Monarok, you have caught me off guard and how rude you are. You caught me in the middle of a spell... a very... complex spell. I'm not sure you'd understand if I'm to explain it–'  
  
'Try me,' said Monarok. Vhailor's smile soon turned to a frown and his happy eyes had melted into a bland look of disappointment. 'I shall be straight with you, Monarok. This journey does have great meaning. I thought your rag-tag band of fighters could supply me with one with wit enough to mind business of his own... but I see they have failed.'  
  
'Enough wit to inquire the purpose of their deeds seems more fitting, mage.' replied Monarok.  
  
'Indeed. But I have told you before not to inquire anything. This mission is my own and I have paid well to your accomodations. I think I rightly deserve my part in return.'  
  
Monarok sheathed his sword. 'Ill turns could cost me more than money. I must know what I'm getting in too if I'm to protect you.'  
  
'Nothing that sword of yours could not avail. I have promised to worry on these matters. I can assure you that nothing worse than a gang of bandits could possibly attack me.'  
  
'Your magics seem well suited to support you without my help.' spoke Monarok.  
  
'Yes,' said Vhailor, 'though you have not noticed I have limited my self from use of these magics, other than the cooking of food and the spells I perform at night. I require the use of my energy elsewhere, and that is why I need you.'  
  
'I see.' Monarok said no more, but left the tent of Vhailor to his own abode. Sleep did not come easy to him and he feared... no, he assured himself that this wizard was lying to him. Maybe a priest of Cyric who needed sacrifice... but why me? is what Monarok would think. Other ideas were of ambushes set by rival guilds such as the Zhentarim and the Harpers. Maybe an ambush set by a distraught wizard with a grudge. Lady Luck only knew.  
End of chapter two. Chapter three will come sooner or later. Please read and review this if you have time. And thanks for readind. DISCLAIMER: I own no rights to the Forgotten Realms thingy! 


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